


Sherstrade Teenlock practice fic.

by Readingfanfics



Series: Practice Stories [34]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Teenlock, not complete, practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: The first time I wrote Sherstrade teenlock. WARNING: this story is not complete and won't be.If any of you want to use the idea you totally can! Just let me know so I can read your wonderful Sherstrade stories!





	1. Chapter 1

He should have been faster.

 

“What is it freak?! Can't stand up for yourself now that big brother is gone?”Didn't want to deal with you anymore I'm sure!”

 

“Freak!”

 

“Weirdo!”

 

The insults where like punches to the chest, at least this time there weren't actual punches. Which was a bonus Sherlock supposed. Still, it didn't hurt any less. After another few minutes they left, but not before Christopher threw his books to the floor and Peter slammed him into his locker. Great end of the day. Hell, great end of the week. Sherlock sighed inwardly _(never show you are weak)_ and started to collect his books from the schoolfloor. He couldn't wait to go home and have some peace. Do some reading. Learn about something interesting for a change.

 

“Need help with that?'

 

Sherlock almost jumped out of his skin at the voice calling from behind him. Why hadn't he heard someone was coming? It really was time to get home and start the weekend.

 

“There you go. Are you okay?”

 

 

_Stop bothering me with your silly questions, I'm clearly not okay, you idiot._ That was on the tip of Sherlocks tongue but he kept it in just in time. Cause when he looked up he saw that it was Greg Lestrade standing there. Greg Lestrade! The most popular kid at school, the best footballplayer in 10 years, or so Sherlock had heard somewhere. Greg, insanely handsome, Lestrade was standing right there. Offering Sherlock his books back and smiling at him. Smiling. At. Him. _Dammit Sherlock,pull yourself together!_

 

“I'm fine, thank you.” At least his voice sounded in controle enough.

 

“Those guys really are idiots, you shouldn't let them get to you. I'm Greg by the way.” Lestrade said and held out his hand for Sherlock to shake. The younger boy looked tired and worn out, clearly it hadn't been a good day. Maybe not even a good week.

 

“I know who you are. And yes, they are idiots but for some reason they don't want to leave me alone when I clearly don't have a problem with leaving them alone.” Sherlock nearly snapped. Like it was so damn easy to just ignore them, their words, their punches! He couldn't deal with this anymore so he started walking away and to the exit. Leaving a very stunned Greg Lestrade behind, hand still in mind air.

 

“Oi wait! Wait!” Gregs voice came from behind him, running to keep up with Sherlock and grabbing his arm to hold him in place. Sherlock went rigid instantly. _Ofcourse it was too good to be true._ Why would anyone show kindness to him if not to hurt him after. Specially the popular Lestrade. Christopher and his gang of baboons were probably somewhere nearby. Phones ready to record and send.

 

“I.. sorry... I just.” Greg let go of Sherlock's arm almost as soon as he had grabbed him. Clearly the boy didn't like to be touch and Greg didn't want to scare him away.

“I just wanted to know your name, is all. You know mine but you haven't told me yours.” He looked at Sherlock and saw the begining of a frown. And he was sure he saw relieve in his greyblue eyes. _What did he think I was going to do?_ What color were his eyes anyway? He'd never seen eyes like that. They felt like space, endless, full of secrets and promises if you only dared to go far enough. _Greg focus!_ He mentally shook himself out of his thought and saw that the boy clearly had made a decision.

“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.” The younger boy looked down at his books, his cheeks turning a soft pink. Gregs heart almost stopped. _He was so beautiful_!

 

“Well Sherlock Holmes, it's nice to finaly meet you.” Greg extended his hand again and after a little hesitation Sherlock took it.

 

“Finaly meet me? What do you mean?” Sherlock asked a little worried. Greg's hand felt rough against his. It felt really good. Must be from all the football playing.

 

“I've heard about you around the school.” Greg said, shrugging his right shoulder. He didn't like the look on the younger boys face. Worried, looking down at the ground, shoulders tense.

 

“Apparently you're quite the genius. Correcting the teachers on an almost daily basis.” Greg said, smile growing on his face as Sherlocks head went up in superspeed and his mouth hung open a little. Eyes as wide as saucers, the color now green. _Just like space._

 

“I... well, they are idiots at times.” Sherlock said. Cause they really were.

Greg throw his head back and started laughing. It was one of the best sounds in the world Sherlock decided.

 

“I really have to go home now. So, thank you for the help.” Sherlock looked down at the floor again, a light blush on his face.

 

“Yeah, of course. I have to get going myself, mom's expecting me soon. I'l see you around, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

 

He had heard of Sherlock Holmes before today. Ofcourse he had. Everyone had. If there is one thing teenagers are good at it's gossip, so Greg had heard bits and pieces about the younger boy.

It turned out people couldn't decide on him. Some called him brilliant and gorgeous while others, the biggest group, claimed he was arrogant and weirdlooking. It didn't help that he spend most of his time alone, head in a book. Or scribbeling away in a black notebook with a bee on it. When he did talk it was to correct mistakes others made, students and teachers alike and he wasn't doing it in the most gentle of ways.

 

Greg himself was instantly fascinated by Sherlock. He was just so different from all the other people he knew and hung out with. He'd been trying to find a way to talk to the genius, to get to know him beyond the gossip and assumptions. Maybe today hadn't been the best way to officialy meet Sherlock Holmes but he was glad none the less. Sherlock knew Lestrade! At least he'd heard of him before! He couldn't believe it! The gorgeous boy knew of him.

Up close Sherlock was truely stunning. Those alienlike eyes scanning you, trying to find out all your secrets. The freckles and moles he had on his insanly long neck. Greg wanted to count each one with his tongue. The blush that formed on the boys face when he smiled at him made Greg's stomach do flips.

 

He had long figured out he was bisexual but didn't spread it around too much. His best friend Andy knew and his mom and for Greg that was enough. So the fact that Greg Lestrade wanted to snog Sherlock senseless, that cupid bow would be the death of him, wasn't a shock to him.

 

What was a shock was the way Sherlock had recoiled from his touch when trying to stop him from leaving. Greg could feel Sherlock tense up, waiting for the punch the boy thought he was going to get. It made Gregs heart go cold and in that moment he decided to keep a closer look on him. Just the idea of someone laying hands on Sherlock, someone hurting him just for the fun of it made Greg see red for a moment. He had a pretty good idea who was responsible for it and he'd be dammed if he didn't do anything to stop it.

 

He did need to make a plan or something. Greg had an inkling Sherlock wouldn't appreciate his help right away.

 

Greg couldn't wait for Monday to begin. Seeing Sherlock again,trying to make him smile again,maybe even blush. Yes, things were looking up. Greg smiled to himself while he went outside to the parkinglot to get his motercycle and go home.

 

Sherlock closed the frontdoor of his home with a loud bang. The week had been awful. Christopher and his friends had bothered him every day, yelling names, throwing insult. Knocking his schoolsupplies and books out of his hands. At least one homework had to be redone cause it was too filthy from laying on the grass. A straying elbow in his ribs, a shove on the way from the bathroom to his next class. They were everywhere it seemed, all the time! The only place they did leave him alone was the library. Which probably had to do with the fact that Mr. Watson was quite terrifying when he needed to be. Short blond hair, bright blue eyes and that military vibe, everybody knew not to mess with Mr. Watson. Even idiots like Christopher and his friends.

 

Granted, Sherlock knew he wasn't the nicest and most normal person on the planet. What he had in smartness and brilliance he lacked in social skills. By now he didn't even bother to try anymore. Being alone, reading his books was enough most days. He did miss his brother if he were being honest. Mycroft was off to university, exploring his skills, building himself up, learning new things and meeting new people. Sherlock was left behind with the mess they called 'high school'.

 

For the smarth mouth he could be in class, he was anything but outside of it. He'd been foolish enough to talk back once before. Telling the truth about one of Christophers close friends. The drinking of his father and the emotional abuse from his mother. The hidden homosexuality of the boy himself. They'd almost kicked and punched him straight to the hospital. So after that experience he'd kept silent and tried to avoid them as much as he could. It turned out the librabry was the best place for that.

 

In comparison to the rest of the school it was huge. Rows and rows of dark brown bookcases filled with schoolbooks of all topics. Not only that, they also had a huge selection of thrilles, romance novels, encyclopedias and, much to Sherlocks delight, books on criminology. He couldn't wait to read Criminology By Tim Newburn.

 

After his own bedroom it was his favourite place to be. Maybe the fact that the librarian, Mr. Watson, was handsome and more importantly, kind was a factor in that. He could ask a billion questions, on his life, his military background, and he didn't seem to mind. Sometimes Sherlock would let his guard slip and blurt out an observation.The fact that Mr. Watson didn't get on with his sister well or that he did indeed have a chance with the history teacher Miss Morstan. And the wonderful thing was that Mr. Watson didn't get mad or upset with him. He just sort of chuckeled and asked how he know it and then they would talk about a different subject.

 

Still, for all the great company the librarian was, he was still a teacher and didn't really know all that was happening beyond the library walls. Sherlock was very much alone in his ongoing war with Christopher and his gang. At least he had been till today. Cause today Greg Lestrade, the most popular bloke in the school, had helped him pick up his books. Had smiled at him, had asked his name and called him a genius. He still couldn't quite believe it. He did feel a bit bad for leaving so abruptly but he really didn't know how to handle all this. The smiles, the kind words, the touch of Gregs hand on him. Plus, he needed to be realistic and not get carried away. Just because Lestrade had showed him a little kidness to Sherlock didn't mean they would interact again. Or that his problems would go away now. _Don't forget the Victor situation,_ a voice in his head said. A voice that sounded very much like his brothers.

_____________________________________

Sherlock and Victor bit

 

“Sherlock is that you?” His mother's voice called out from the living room. Sherlock throw his backpack on the floor and slid out of his coat. At least today's debacle had left it in tact.

“Ah Sherlock, how was your day? Did the test go well?” His mother asked. She was busy with some papers from work. Clients that needed her help to prove their innocence. Sherlock had heard his mother was one of the best lawyers in the country and the way she could debate with her son proved that. She was a very observant person which for Sherlock wasn't always a blessing. He'd learned pretty fast how to hide his emotions and school his reactions. After he'd read The Definitive Book of Body Language, by Barbara Pease and Allan Pease he knew better how to make his body not speak. It didn't always work with his mom though.

 

“Oh, a rough day honey?”

 

“Same as usual, the test went well. The teacher is an idiot so the questions were childsplay.”

 

“Sherlock, stop calling your teachers idiots. His mom said semi-serious. She couldn't quite hide the twinkle in her eyes.

 

“Sorry mom. Is it okay if I take a bath just before dinner?” He just needed a way to relax and not feel dirty. Christopher and his friends had a way of making him feel like that. Dirty and unwanted.

 

“Ofcourse darling, dinner is at six. Enjoy your bath.” His mom went back to her files but not before seeing her son grab his bag, his face contorting like he was in pain. _What had happend now?_ She knew not to push him, he would just deflect and at last get angry and not talk to her anymore. She didn't want to add extra stress but she was worried. Ever since they had moved two month before she'd seen her son close off more and more. He was staying in his room by himself more, buring himself in his books and schoolwork even more then before. Always answering 'I'm fine' when she asked how his day was. Not once had he brought a friend round or even talked about the other students in his class. So yes, she was worried but she also didn't know what to do. _I wish I knew how to help._ Seeing her brilliant son miserable like this made her heart break.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Background story for Sherlock and Victor + caring brother Mycroft.

Sherlock had met Victor the year he'd turned 13. He'd been in France with his family for the summer and Victor and his parents stayed in the same hotel.

 

He'd had an instant draw to the boy. Victor was smart, not so smart as Sherlock of course but smart enough to keep up with him. Smart enough to not be boring. Sherlock also found Victor very funny, and good looking. Even at 13 Sherlock knew he fancied Victor, knew that he was different

 

Victor was even taller then him, but he had more muscles, more power. Blue mischievous eyes, dark brown hair and a big smile with bright, perfect teeth. He had a little scar on his left eyebrow, bike accident when he was a little boy it turned out. They had noticed each other before but it wasn't until Sherlock proved to Victor's mom that Victor hadn't broken the bedside lamp in the room he shared with his older sister that they had become friends. Cindy had done it, in a fit of rage cause she wasn't allowed to go to a party the hotel organized, After that they had spend the rest of the summer together, exploring France, going to the Louvre, meeting new people, both Sherlock and Victor were great at speaking French. Even after the summer holiday's they stayed in touch, Victor lived 3 streets down from Sherlock and they met up after school to do homework, watch movies, talk about girls. Although that part was mostly Victor, Sherlock didn't really care for girls, he found them odd and a bit scary. It wasn't until 6 months later that Sherlock made his mistake.

 

They had been at Victor's house as usual, watching a movie. ?James Bond is the coolest guy ever created, you have to see the movies.? Victor had told Sherlock. So there they were. Sitting next to each other on the bed, watching Bond kill the bad guys and save the world. Sherlock had lost his attention halfway through, looking more at Victor then the film. Victor didn't seem to notice, staring at the screen in fascination though he had seen the movie at least 4 times.

 

He is so beautiful. Sherlock thought, looking at Victor's face, his blue eyes sparkling like diamonds. During the movie Sherlock had shifted closer to Victor, not really on porpoise, it just sort of happened. They were brushing shoulder's occasionally . _He feels so warm. So solid._

Sherlock focused on Victor's lips, they were shiny and plush. Victor had a habit of licking them Seeing the other boy's tongue stick out did things to Sherlock's stomach. _What would his lips taste like?_ Sherlock thought, moving a little closer to Victor still. “It's a great movie right.” Victor asked, turning to Sherlock with his bright blue eyes and big smile. That's when Sherlock did the most stupid thing in his young life.

 

He went forward and kissed Victor on the lips, it felt amazing. Pure heaven for 2 seconds. Then reality came back. Hard

 

“ WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU FREAK! GET OFF ME, FUCKING FAGGOT.” Victor yelled, pushing Sherlock off him and onto the floor. “ I'M NOT A FAG!” Victor was off the bed, staring down at Sherlock with rage and disgust in his eyes.

 

“I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I.” Sherlock stuttered and turned red,humiliation rising inside him like a volcano, tears starting to sting his eyes. He got up of the floor, wincing a bit when he put pressure on his wrist, looking at Victor with pleading eyes. “I didn't mean to... Please don't be mad, it won't happen again.... I'm...” he begged, starting to walk towards Victor with his hands help up, almost like he surrendered.

 

“DON'T COME NEAR ME WEIRDO.” Victor yelled, getting out of reach and opening his bedroom door. “GET OUT! Get out and don't come back. I never want to see you again, got that? Fag.” Victor said so cold and cruel it made Sherlock stumble on his way out. It was like his heart was being ripped in two and stepped on.

“Victor please, I..” Sherlock tried one more time, looking at his best friend and trying not to cry. “I hate you Sherlock. Get out.” Victor whispered, looking at Sherlock in rage. Then his bedroom door was smashed closed, just missing Sherlock's face.

 

Sherlock went home in a daze that evening. _Why did you do that idiot? Why? WHY?!_ He was mentally kicking himself down. _You are a weirdo Sherlock, he's totally right. A weirdo, a freak! Why did you do that! Guys don't kiss other guy's! They just don't!_

 

Sherlock was in tears by the time he got home. His parents were away to a function party that night so it was his older brother Mycroft who found him. Shaking and sobbing, big tears streaming down his face, no mater how fiercely he tried to wipe them away. They just kept coming.

 

“Sherlock. Sherlock what's wrong? What happened?” Mycroft was with him in an instant, taking him into his arms, hugging him tight. “Are you hurt? I though you were staying with Victor?” Just hearing the others boy's name made Sherlock cry more, clinging to his brother for comfort and support. “Come Bee, let's go sit in the living room. I'll make us some tea and when you call down we can talk, if you want.” Mycroft said, guiding his younger sibling into the living room, helping him take of his jacket and moving him down on the sofa. “Here.” He pulled out a handkerchief. “I'll be right back.”

 

Sherlock heard the opening of cabinets and the clattering of spoons and teacups in the kitchen. He blew his nose and dried his eyes. “This is so embarrassing.” He muttered to himself, taking a deep breath to try and calm down.

 

“Tea is ready.” Mycroft came back with a try, filled with 2 teacups and a teapot,milk and sugar and several biscuits on it. He poured out the tea and handed it to Sherlock who took a careful sip and instantly relaxed a bit more. “Have a biscuit Bee.” Mycroft said, getting the tray closer to Sherlock so he could grab one.

 

'Bee' was the nickname Mycroft had giving him when he was just a toddler. Sherlock was fascinated by the creatures and had picture books of them. He even had socks with bee's on them and a stuffed toy. His mother and Mycroft found it adorable seeing Sherlock play with his stuffed toy, wearing his socks and his jumper in the color of a bee. “If he keeps this up he'll turn into a bee.” his mother had commented one day, when Sherlock had found a bee hat and bee underwear. Ever since the nickname was born.

 

“Want to tell me what happened tonight brother?” Mycroft asked, sitting next to Sherlock, drinking his own tea and looking at him with worry in his eyes. Some days Sherlock though it was the only way he could look at him. “You don't have to of course but I'm willing to listen.”

 

“I.” Sherlock started but he couldn't say more. He was full of shame and sadness and he didn't know how to begin. He looked up at Mycroft, trying to read his face, see what he already knew but his brother had always been better at hiding his emotions then him. He took another deep breath and just went with plain honestly.

 

“I kissed Victor and he didn't like it.” Sherlock looked at his lap, the words had come out a bit harder then he had intended. He was sad but also angry. With himself or with Victor he didn't really know.

 

“I see.” Mycroft said, waiting for Sherlock to say more.

“I thought he liked me back. I mean, he laughed at my jokes, said I was smart and brilliant. He always sat close to me during movie night, putting his hand on my shoulder or my back when we walked. And tonight he just looked so pretty and I was wondering how it would feel and then he turned around to look at me, all wide eyes and bright smile and I... I...” Sherlock faltered, still looking at his lap, a small blush on his face from all the intimate details he'd just said out loud.

 

“He called me a weirdo and a freak. Said he wasn't a faggot and that he hated me.” Sherlock felt tears well up again. The insults stung. His best friend had called him a weirdo. A freak! “Am I?” Sherlock asked, barely a whisper, looking up at his big brother, eyes shining from unshed tears.

 

“No. No you aren't a freak.” Mycroft said, throwing his arm around his baby brother and pulling him closer. “ This boy clearly isn't right for you Sherlock. You are special. Really special and if he can't see that then he isn't worth your time or affection.” Mycroft said fiercely, trying to catch his brother's eye.

 

“I mean it Bee. There is nothing wrong with you. Only stupid people think that. He isn't worth your time or tears. Remember what Dad always says?” Mycroft asked him, hooking his fingers under Sherlock's chin to look him in the eyes.

 

“Caring is not an advantage .” Sherlock said getting out of his brothers hold to take another biscuit. He was a sweetmouth and couldn't resist.

 

“That's right. It's good advice Sherlock, you need to remember it. Other people aren't worth it. They will never keep up with you, will never see how special you are and will hurt you along the way.” Mycroft said, coming off the sofa. “Let's get you to bed Bee. You could use some rest.”

 

Sherlock followed Mycroft upstairs, changed into his pajamas in the bathroom while Mycroft closed the bedroom window and turned his bed sheet over. He'd looked over Sherlock's wrist but it was just a bit bruised from landing on the ground when Victor had shoved him.

 

“ Want me to read you a short story first?” Mycroft asked once Sherlock was in his bed, looking pale, circles starting to form under his eyes from crying and all the emotions that came with it. “Mycroft, I'm not 5 anymore.” Sherlock said, but there wasn't a real bite to it. “ The pirate story please.”

 

After Mycroft finished he went towards the door when he heard Sherlock call after him. “Mycroft, thank you.”

 

“Anytime Bee, anytime.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock in the bath, thinking about Greg. Really wanted to add that in the story at the time.

The warm water helped Sherlock's tense body and nerves relax. The sent of the coconut and almond soap filled up his noise. The week had been stressful to say the least. The only good moments had been at home or in the library. Sherlock hadn't always had trouble with other people. Before Victor he was actually quite popular. Other students listened to what he had to say, they found him smart and talented and he even helped some of them with studying and solving small 'crimes'. Finding out if someone's girlfriend was indeed just hanging out with friends...that sort of thing. Back then he hadn't minded people. Before Victor you could have called him fairly normal. Still a little weirdlooking and too smart for his own good but normal overall.

 

After Victor that had all changed. Sherlock got his bathsponge and started cleaning his arms and chest. He loved the feel of the soft sponge against his skin, he was sensitive to things like that. Not long after the incident with Victor his mom and dad had broken up, moved to a different town and school and Mycroft went off to boardingschool. Feeling out of place in a new town, without the guidance of his brother Sherlock had closed off. Students that tried to befriend him he had scared off by telling all their secrets, out loud, with people standing by. Soon nobody tried to talk to him. He'd always had the ability to notice things others didn't. Before Victor he did his best to keep his mouth shut, just like his brother had said. “You can't spill out everything you see Sherlock, it's not decent. It upsets people and hurts them. You need to careful, think before you talk.” He'd told him when he was about 5, after making his niece cry.

 

After Victor he didn't care and wanted to hurt people. It made them leave him alone and that was for the best. _Caring is not an advantage._ Sherlock thought, while running his sponge over his belly. _Look where it got me before._

The only person he didn't seem to scare away was Mr. Watson. _No, that's not true. Not anymore._ Sherlock went over his chest and belly again with the sponge, he loved taking long baths. _Greg Lestrade wasn't scared off him._ Sherlock's cheeks went a bit more crimson, and not because of the warm water.

He still couldn't believe Greg had talked to him. He was very handsome, with his chocolate brown eyes, looking at Sherlock with a fond expression. His lips looked soft and kissable. He had the body of a Greek god with all his arm muscles and just raw power. Power and softness. It was a strange combination but Greg Lestrade was just that. And all that power and softness had been directed to him.

_What would he taste like? How would his hands feel on me._ Greg had big hands, more ruff then Sherlock's. _How would it feel, being pressed against him, feeling Greg's weight on him._ Sherlock's sponge went down from his belly to his groin. Just thinking of Greg made his groin come to life. _Would he kiss me rogue, with open mouth, tongue everywhere, not able to control himself? Would he bite down on my neck, leaving a mark that lasted a few days? “_ Oh.” The sponge was abandoned. Sherlock gripped his dick with his hands, stroking slowly up and down.

 

Sherlock imaged Greg placing soft kisses on his neck, going down to his nipples, taking one into his mouth and sucking on it. Playing with the bud, biting and licking it. Doing the same on the other nipple, driving Sherlock wild. Going from there to his belly, planting kisses there, his hands going in Sherlock's curls and tugging them. “Oh Greg, don't stop.” Sherlock stroked his dick harder, the feeling of his hand and the water making it slide so good.

 

Greg going down to his groin, stuffing his noise into Sherlock's pubic hairs, smelling him, drinking him in. Finally going to his dick, licking the slit, suckling it, grabbing Sherlock's balls and tugging them. Looking at Sherlock with eyes full of lust. “You're beautiful baby.” Taking Sherlock's dick into his mouth, bobbing up and down, making obscene noises of pleasure. Sherlock's hands on Greg's head, urging him on, moaning his name. “Greg, oh Greg, so good.” Sherlock bit his lip, trying to be quite. He didn't want his mom to hear him.

 

Greg releasing Sherlock's cock, licking it from base to tip, planting kisses on his belly. Rutting his hard erection against Sherlock's leg, panting hard. “Touch yourself baby, let me see you come.” Sherlock was getting so close, thinking of Greg talking dirty to him, Greg being naked, stroking his own dick while not breaking eye contact with him was enough to get Sherlock over the edge. Thick strands of semen landing in the bathwater. Sherlock came down from his fantasy shaken. “Fuck.”

 

He got out of the bath, ran the water and dried himself off looking in the mirror on the door. _He wouldn't want you. Stop dreaming idiot._ Sherlock looked himself over, he was all sharp angles, pale skin. _Nobody wants to kiss that._ Sherlock changed into his house clothes, soft and threadbare by use. Greg could have anyone he wanted, people were probably standing in line to date him Christ sake! He went into his bedroom, pulling out his schoolbook and looking at what needed to be done by Monday. He had plenty of time so right now he went back downstairs, dinner would soon be ready. He'd never kiss a freak like you. Never. His mind said while entering the kitchen where his mom was doing last minute preparations. His mind sounded it lot like Victor.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a blog where you can find sneek peeks, updates and writer's tips: http://readingfanficswrites.tumblr.com/


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